


Mission Im-pie-able

by Cerdic519



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Halloween, Human Castiel, M/M, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester, Married Life, Pie, Sex coma, Sneaky Dean, Valentine's Day Fluff, Watchful Cas, mission: impossible - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-04-12 07:09:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4469963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wants that pie! Of course he isn't going to make the mistake of underestimating his ex-angel of a husband this time.</p><p>A set of pie-related Destiel flufflets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was totally the former angel’s fault that Dean Winchester was creeping stealthily down the stairs at one in the morning, humming a certain TV theme to himself. After all, making what promised to be the most delicious apple-pie in the known universe, then placing it first to cool and then in the fridge whilst telling Dean that it Must Not Be Touched until Sam and Sarah came to dinner – well, that was a full eighteen hours away! No way was someone going to keep Dean Winchester from his pie for eighteen hours! Hell that was….. a whole lot of minutes! That and the fact that Cas had made him watch the old Mission: Impossible series all evening, and Dean had this mental image of a slow-burning fuse flashing across the hallway as he got nearer and nearer his target. Stealthy as a panther, he closed in his prey.

Of course, even though Cas was all de-powered nowadays, Dean knew better than to underestimate his husband. So he had bit the bullet - amongst other things - and spent a considerable amount of time fucking the former angel into a sex coma, so his horny mate could not stop the hunter from going after this particular quarry. Dean had been caught out before by the ex-angel’s watchfulness (several times, if truth be told), so he had made sure Cas was dead to the world, happily burrito’ed in all the blankets with a goofy smile on his face, before Dean had carefully slid away and made his way down the stairs, carefully avoiding the creaking third one up.

He made it to the kitchen safely enough, and only then flashed his torch around to make sure of his way. Sure enough, there was a light dusting of some powder on the floor, just enough for some unwary hunter to leave a footprint as he opened the fridge. Carefully Dean positioned a chair clear of the powder, and then shone the torch onto the fridge door-handle.

Aha! Itching powder, held in place by some sort of gooey paste! Cas knew him too well. But not smart enough, angel, Dean smirked, using the washing-tongs to open the door carefully, the light from inside absurdly bright in the darkened room.

And there it was, the most glorious pie in existence. Dean let out a whimper of happiness, and he used his torch to check for any last-minute traps. Yeah, an egg had been balanced behind the pie-dish, so that too hasty a removal would cause it to roll to the floor and splatter. Honestly, anyone would think that Cas didn’t trust him! Dean carefully moved the egg clear, then slid the pie out of the fridge and placed the dish gently on the table. This was gonna be great enough to make up for Cas’ sad, disappointed face all next day….

+~+~+

Not far away, a former angel smiled as he burrowed deeper into his blankets, in a bed now minus one hungry hunter. He listened carefully for all the sounds that would tell him how his plans were progressing.

The soft click of the oven being turned on (the microwave always made an irritating beep as if to remind the user that hey, a microwave! so Dean would avoid using that).

The very slight creak of the cupboard over the coffee-maker, where Dean kept his favorite blue dish.

The clink of the freezer draw, which meant that Dean had chosen ice-cream rather than custard.

The scrape of a chair not quite lifted off the floor as Dean sat down at the table.

The slight clink as Dean’s spoon caught his dish.

The mighty roar when Dean bit into the pie, and the yelling that followed on from that.

The sound of the tap being turned on full-blast, as Dean both whined and tried to stop his mouth catching fire.

The sound of heavy footsteps as an enraged hunter stomped furiously upstairs.

The bedroom door being flung open, and his husband standing there in a rage.

“What the hell did you do, Cas?”

“I did ask you to leave the pie alone, Dean”, Cas said pointedly. “But I thought there was a very slight chance that you might ignore my humble request, so I had a second pie in reserve. Apple and jalapeno. With very little apple.”

Even without looking, he could hear his husband seething. Dean marched back to the bed and flung himself sulkily down onto his side. Cas could actually feel the pout; his husband never liked being in the wrong, and being caught out and in the wrong was a double embarrassment. The former angel smirked.

“See if I put out for you in the next twenty-four hours!” Dean groused.

“If you do in the next twenty-four minutes, I might be inclined to tell you where I hid a certain pie”, Cas whispered from inside his warm haven.

Dean’s eyes lit up.

+~+~+

Half an hour later, Dean realized that Cas had used the word ‘might’. If he’d been capable of moving any of his limbs at that moment, he’d have swatted the sneaky bastard!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets his pie - sort of.....

Dean was still sulking the following morning, and Cas left him in bed with a reminder that their Halloween costumes were being delivered that morning. It said something that families in the street thought nothing of entrusting their kids to the openly gay couple, though that was probably because Cas just gave them that lost puppy face of his, and they turned to jello.

Dean eventually roused himself and came downstairs to find that Cas was cooking something smelling delicious for breakfast, and that the costumes had indeed arrived early. It had been Cas' turn to choose this year, and Dean had been delighted to find he had gone for the original Batman and Robin – until he'd found that Cas got to be Batman! The Robin outfit could probably be seen from outer space, it was that bright. Sighing, Dean went back upstairs to try it on.

+~+~+

Of course, when he came back down to breakfast, Cas immediately spotted something was up. No mojo, but the blue-eyed bastard knew his husband too well at times like these. He hesitated before dishing out the bacon.

“What's wrong?” he asked, his head tilting as always.

Dean reddened.

“I, uh, seem to have put on a few pounds since the fitting”, he muttered, so quietly that he almost hoped the angel hadn't heard him. No such luck.

“Probably all that overindulgence at Ellen and Bobby's barbecue last week”, he said. 

Dean fully expected his husband to say or do something, but Cas just served him breakfast as normal, so he relaxed. Everything was fine.

He really should have known better.

+~+~+

It was good to catch up with his moose of a brother and the attractive brunette whom, doubtless due to some terrible error of judgement on her part, he had ended up with. Everything went well until Cas slipped away for a few moments before dessert, and returned wearing the Batman costume, earning himself a wolf-whistle from Sarah.

“I assume Dean is Robin?” Sam chortled, after giving his fiancée a short warning look. 

“He will be”, Cas said, “once he can fit into his costume. But we are seeing to that.”

“I'll take it back to the shop for alterations tomorrow”, Dean said.

“Actually I was referring to the diet you are going on”, Cas said dryly. “Starting tonight.”

Dean's lower lip quivered, and he stared at his husband, who was taking the now warmed apple-pie from the oven.

“Cas!” he whined. “Pie!”

“There's custard or diet ice-cream instead, whichever you prefer”, Cas said. “We can't have Batman's fellow crime-fighter too fat to fit into his costume, can we now?”

As a last resort (because it had never worked before), Dean tried the same puppy-dog eyes expression he knew worked so well for his brother and husband. Both of whom were now tucking into the delicious pie.

“Cas? Please? Just a small slice?”

His husband let out a long-suffering sigh, and walked over to cut Dean a slice after all. Dean bounded after him, letting out a small yip of happiness and ignoring his brother's comment of 'whipped'. He bent over his husband as he cut it.

“And tonight, you can start to work it off in bed!” Cas whispered, grinding himself covertly against his husband, before slipping from his grasp and taking the (far too small) slice of pie back to the table.

Dean had to have ice-cream on his pie – he preferred custard, but getting the vanilla out of the freezer gave him a precious few seconds to try to make his sudden boner go down. He'd make Cas pay for that later!

+~+~+

He did. And the following day, he was already half a pound lighter!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three certainties in the universe:   
> Death  
> Taxes  
> Dean Winchester underestimating his husband, and getting caught out.

It was not Dean's fault that a new mini-mall was opening up right next to his road home from the garage. It was not his fault that there just happened to be a new bakery in said mini-mall, due to open its doors this Friday. He was just being a good guy, supporting local businesses and all that, and if he maybe 'forgot' to mention the place to his sexy husband, well, it was Cas' fault for looking so sexy in that professor's uniform of his. He could not seriously expect to be allowed into the house without being thoroughly ravished, which distracted Dean from other things.

Bobby, who could read him like a book, was a good boss. Dean was let out ten minutes early that day so he could stop at his bakery without Cas getting suspicious (the professor knew exactly how far it was between home and work, and besides, Friday night was pizza night, and Dean would not be late without a good reason.

The Impala pulled into the mini-mall's car park close to The Pie Chart, its driver having to make an effort not to drool in the car. Dean walked swiftly into the store. There was a large glass display counter full of delicious pastries and – yup, front and center, a large apple pie. Jackpot!

“Precious!” Dean muttered to himself. It earned him an odd look from a couple of girls at a nearby table, but they soon went back to their phones. And better still, there were only three people ahead of him. He took a deep breath and tried to control himself.

Finally he was at the front of the queue.

“Hi, Chloe”, he said, checking the girl's name-badge. “The pie, please.”

She looked at him.

“You must be Dean”, she said.

He was confused. His work overalls, which had his name on them, were left back at the garage. 

“Yeah”, he said warily. “Who told you about me, honey?”

“I did.”

And that was when the bottom fell out of Dean's world, taking him with it. A horribly familiar figure emerged from behind the newspaper at the nearest table. The mechanic tried for a smile, but from the snigger of the girl behind the counter, he guessed he'd failed.

“Cas!” he said, in far too high a voice. “Fancy seeing you here!”

“I rather suspect that you did not 'fancy' seeing me here at all”, Cas growled, doing the obligatory air-quotes. “What did I say about snacking between meals?”

“But Cas!” Dean objected (he did not whine, no matter what it sounded like). “Pie!”

His husband looked at him – Dean was sure he heard Chloe mutter something that sounded suspiciously like 'whipped' – then gestured outside.

“Home, Dean”, he said firmly. “And we will be having a talk about your 'behavior' later!”

Dean slunk out of the store, mortified.

+~+~+

It was only when Cas got home after him that Dean discovered that the little bastard had bought a slice of that wonderful pie for himself, and that he fully intended to eat it in front of his slavering husband that evening. The poor mechanic had to give his husband one hell of a fucking to get him to change his mind. Honestly, the things he did for pie!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's that certain day of the year - yup, the one before St. Quinidius' Day - and Cas has to match his husband's romantic efforts.

Dean Winchester did not 'do' many things. Chick flicks. Diets. Salad. Cuddling (though 'manly embracing' was okay). And the one thing Dean Winchester did not 'do' above all others was that crappy Hallmark Holiday known as St. Valentine's Day. But for his wonderful husband he had made an effort this year, and although he had had to go into work early that day, Cas had come downstairs to find a large box of vague chocolates (and not even Wal-Mart's own; an actual brand name), a hand-made card and a pink heart balloon tied to the back of the chair with 'I Wuv My Angel!' on it. 

There may, just possibly, have been tears. But he set about arranging his own surprise for his husband's return that evening.

+~+~+

Dean pulled the Impala to a halt in their garage, pointedly not looking at the four-wheeled excuse for an automobile parked next to it. In fact his attention was distracted by the small folding table which Cas had set up, close to the door into the house. There was that horrible girly cake-stand on top of it, and a folded card with 'mug cupboard' written on it. 

Dean frowned, but took the stand and went into the kitchen. He opened the mug cupboard – then grinned. There, under a folding plastic cover, was a small strawberry pie, clearly home-baked as it had a 'D' and a small heart on the top. And next to it was a second folded card, with 'TV cabinet' on it. Dean carefully placed the pie on the stand, and went to investigate.

Four pies later – pecan, blackcurrant, mixed fruit and blueberry – he was headed for the alcove window at the top of the stairs. This time, however, there was no pie, just another card with 'cleaning cupboard' on it. And inside the cupboard, another card with 'chest' on it. Dean supposed that meant the old chest of drawers in their bedroom. He went in there – and froze.

His wonderful husband was lying naked on the bed, a small apple pie balanced neatly on his broad chest (impressively that was the second thing Dean noticed, his eyes having to travel a few inches up from the first). 

“For a guy who does not 'do' Hallmark Holidays”, Cas grinned, “you surpassed yourself on this one. Happy St. Valentine's Day, Dean.”

“Right back at you!” Dean said, quite proud that he could manage whole words when most of his blood supply was heading for his lower brain. He stripped off as quickly as he could, nearly losing his five collected pies in the process. 

“And”, Cas said, “tomorrow is St. Quinidius' Day. I can't wait to see how you mark that.”

“With any luck, we'll both be too sexed-out to care!” Dean said, gently lifting the pie off his husband's chest and placing it on the stand. “Better start by making sure there are no crumbs.”

Dean was very, very thorough!


End file.
